Review of the film Providence (1977) (2024)

Film Review

A recurring feature of Alain Resnais' cinema is the way in which memory distorts realityand creates an alternative view of the world which, in the mind of the central protagonist,becomes every bit as real as the ‘true' reality seen by an external observer.We see this in Hiroshima,mon amour (1959), L'Année dernière a Marienbad(1961), Muriel (1963), and even his powerful documentary of the Holocaust, Nuit et brouillard (1955). In Providence, Resnais takes this idea and carries it to its most extreme point, fashioninga bizarrely surreal and complex melange of melodrama, thriller and fantasy in which nothingcan be taken at face value and where everything we see admits multiple interpretations.Here, the avant-garde director tackles subjects which have preoccupied philosophers forcenturies: the existence or otherwise of an objective reality, and the relationship betweenan intelligent creation (i.e. man) and his - presumably - more intelligentCreator. And that's just for starters…

Significantly, Providence is Resnais' firstEnglish language film, and was scripted by a British writer David Mercer. The contrastbetween the highly artistic directorial technique of Resnais and the clumsily pretentiouswriting of Mercer could not be greater, but sometimes it is the biggest contrasts whichmake a great piece of art, and this seems to be the case with Providence. In the hands of a contemporary British director, Mercer's tortuous dialoguewould sound simply ridiculous, but with Resnais' unique ability to distort meaning andapply layer upon layer of intrigue and mystery, the script serves the film well (althoughthe excess of cheap toilet vulgarity is to be regretted).

To use a wine metaphor(appropriate, given how much of the stuff gets quaffed in the course of the film), itis Resnais' direction that gives the film its impeccable provenance and fine vintage,but its body and character derives from its excellent cast. Most notably, thereare some truly remarkable contributions from Dirk Bogarde and John Gielgud, two of Britain'sfinest actors. Gielgud brings authority, humanity and a touch of sardonic humour to thefilm, reminding us of the great Shakespearean roles that earned him his reputation asa master of the dramatic art. Bogarde is likewise on fine form, giving a solid performancethat reeks of bourgeois cynicism, sexual ambivalence and emotional frigidity. Hisis a character who is most definitely to be loathed and feared, not liked, in fact thetotal opposite of the Dr Sparrow character of the Doctorfilms that brought the actor fame in the 1950s.

However well it standsup in other areas, it is Alain Resnais' direction above all else that makes Providencesuch a great film, and quite unlike anything that has gone before. It isclearly not a film for those who like their cinematic entertainment neatly packaged withsimple narrative coherence and a straightforward linear plot. (It was Jean-LucGodard who said that a film should have a start, a middle and an end - but not necessarilyin that order. It not at all clear that Providence even satisfies this criterion.) For those who can appreciate complex,elliptically structured works with no clear interpretation, Providence provides a cinematic experience that is both rewarding and haunting.

Thefilm's two main themes - an exploration of the creative process and the fear ofencroaching death - are interwoven with numerous secondary ideas - memoriesof the Holocaust, the Oedipus complex, the merits of euthanasia, the morality of the bourgeoisie,the importance of family, to name just a few. This is not so much a film as an exercisein fractal geometry - the closer one examines the film, the more detail one sees.It is also one of those films which appears to change its meaning on repeated viewings,fitting in with the typically Resnais notion that memory and the passing of time not onlycolour our experiences but can totally alter reality as we perceive it.

Providence has the artistic weight and psychologicalimpact of Resnais' previous great films, but it has something else, something muchdarker and much more sinister. The key to this, and indeed much of the film, liesin its final act, where the dying writer played by Gielgud emerges from his embitterednight world and shares a pleasant sunny afternoon with his grown-up children. Inthe blink of an eye we are catapulted from a nightmare world of the imagination, whichends up being consumed by anarchy and human vice, into an apparently stable world of middleclass calm and moral security - the exact reverse of the Paradise to Hell journeythat we see in many of the films of Claude Chabrol (a New Wave contemporary of Resnais).

Yet there is something about this Resnais-esque view of Paradise that is evenmore unsettling than the Hell we have just experienced. Which of these two interpretationspaints the more accurate picture of the world in which we live? Can we takeseriously the saccharine-doused scene of marital fidelity, brotherly friendship and sweetfather-son love? Isn't it more believable that the two sons would be rivals, thatthe elder son would have a mistress and would bitterly resent his father's slow and demeaningdeath? Surely the world shown to us in the first part of the film, the world apparentlybelonging in the mind of a solitary writer, is the world that is nearer to our own, afar more accurate portrayal of human nature? The second world, of calm, family harmonyand stability, is surely an illusion, a distorted memory of a past that never was, couldnever have been. Which reality do we believe?

For such a complex and unconventialfilm, Providence was a surprising success forAlain Resnais. It was something of a sensation at the 1978 César's ceremony,where it earned a total of seven awards. Notably, it won the César for thebest film and best director, but is also picked up the awards for best script, best music,best sound, best set design and best editing - a remarkable tally for an Englishlanguage film.

With its stunning visual composition and skilfully ambiguous narrative,Providence is unquestionably one of Alain Resnais'most significant works, and one of those rare films which you can watch again and againwith enjoyment and without a moment of boredom. Not only does it provide one ofcinema's most powerful and unsettling portrayals of the way in which the artistuses his mind to create a fantasy world, but it is also a film which repeatedly challengesour own notion of reality.

© James Travers 2004

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Film Synopsis

In a dark old house, an elderly man rambles deliriously as he swigs glass after glassof white wine to ease the pain of his bowel cancer. In a dark forest, a squad ofarmed soldiers are in pursuit of an old man who is turning into a werewolf. Oneof the soldiers catches up with the old man and shoots him dead. The soldier - KevinWoodford - is then tried for murder. Despite the forceful efforts of the barristerClaude Langham, the soldier is acquitted. Langham's wife, Sonia, is drawnto Woodford and begins an affair with him, whilst her husband renews his acquaintancewith an old flame, Helen, who resembles his mother and who is slowly dying. As thedrama unfolds, it becomes clear that these are characters living in the feverish warpedimagination of a dying alcoholic writer…

© James Travers

The above content is owned by frenchfilms.org and must not be copied.